What Hurts The Most
by BurningStorm
Summary: "What hurts the most was being so close and having so much to say... and never knowing what coud've been..." Song fic-ish. Modern AU.


**([Disclaimer: I am no Victor Hugo... Also, i****nspired by What Hurts The Most by Rascal Flatts])**

Normally, she would put on a bright, plastic smile and be polite and responsive and tell everyone lies that sounded fake even to her. They would entertain her feeble attempts at normality and skirt around any topics involving driving, red, black coffee, and politics. Then, there were those days when she would just stare out into space and sit there, just staring, just thinking. Her mind would wander into the past—the not so long ago but seemingly very distant past. This staring, this sudden expedition into the mind, would create this strange distance between her and her friends.

Though there was an obvious new distance between her and her friends, they didn't try to cross the boundary. They thought she needed the space, and time. A lot more time. And though it was clear that she was in pain, her friends knew they couldn't do much to help her. It wasn't just fixing a broken heart, it was mending a torn soul.

Through all the pain and struggle her friends had watched her go through, not once had they seen her cry. It's not that she had too much pride to cry, no. It's not that she wasn't sad, definitely not. It's not that she could pretend to be okay forever, she knew she couldn't do that. But crying, at times, was harder than smiling.

And now, on one of those days where she can do nothing but stare at the wall as memories speared through her mind, a stray tear fell down her cheek as the memories came back like lightning.

" _'Ponine!" his warm and normally calm voice called excitedly from the living room. " 'Ponine! You've gotta see this!"_

_Sighing exaggeratedly, she got up from her spot by the window and maneuvered her way into the room. He sat there, blond curls in disarray as he pointed to the television with glowing blue eyes._

"_We're on TV!" he laughed and she smiled at his enthusiasm, plopping down on the couch next to him and stared at the screen._

_Indeed the group of justice seekers were being reported about on the news. The headline reading their group name and their cause. The pictures moved from the group's poster to one of their rallies. The video was of Enjolras, Courfeyrac, and Feuilly cheering the crowd into standing up for their rights as citizens, workers, and _humans_. Soon, the report moved from the student group to some zoo opening up near the edge of the city._

"_Wow," she smiled, proud to see her boys on television, making an impact. "You guys actually did it."_

"_We did," Enjolras laughed, throwing his head back. "We actually did it."_

_Her smile widened at the sound of his laugh. It was a rare laugh, but so astoundingly beautiful that she knew she could never get over it. Not in a billion years._

"_I'm proud of you," she said honestly, quietly._

_His laughter died down as he turned to her, smiling triumphantly, his eyes full of something she couldn't identify. "I love you."_

That was the first time he had ever told her. The first time he had ever confessed to her. But it wouldn't be his last.

"_Yeah?" she had replied, shocked and unready for the confession._

"_Yeah," he replied sincerely and solemnly. "I love you."_

"_Enjolras, I—"_

"_It's fine," he cut her off, giving her a reassuring smile. "You don't have to say it back. I just—I felt like I needed to tell you."_

"_Thank you," she said slowly, unsure of what to really say. "But I don't think I'm ready just yet."_

"_That's fine," he reached for her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. "I'll wait for you."_

And he did. He waited for her as patiently as a saint. She didn't know how or why in the world he waited for her for so long but the moment she was ready to tell him, the magic seemed to always get interrupted.

"_Enjolras, I—"_

"_Hey chief! There are some people here askin' if they could join the group!" one of the members shouted from the bottom of the staircase. Enjolras sighed before giving her an apologetic look._

"_Sorry, 'Ponine. I'll be right back," he promised, disappearing down the steps and into the first floor. Eponine bit back a groan and squeezed her eyes shut, choosing to patiently—as patiently as possible, at least—wait for Enjolras._

The next time they were alone, she didn't waste any time.

"_Enjolras," she called him, walking over to his table littered with paper, ink, and books._

"_Yes?" he replied distractedly, looking up with a raised brow._

"_A while ago, I was trying to tell you that I—"_

"_Enjolras! Grantaire's trying to kill Combeferre with his bottle again!" someone called from the chaos downstairs._

_Enjolras sighed as he stood up, closing his book but she tried to stop him._

"_Enjolras, wait, just a min—"_

" _'Taire! You know how blood makes Jehan nauseous!" someone scolded and Enjolras cursed as he gave her another apologetic smile before bounding downstairs to stop an imminent death._

Eponine decided that the next time they were alone, she wouldn't wait so long and just get to it.

"_I lo—"_

"_Enjolras, could you check this poem I made for the flyers?" Jehan's gentle voice asked as he started to climb the stairs._

"_Oh for Pete's sake," Eponine muttered under her breath as Enjolras gave her another apologetic smile and stood to go to Jehan._

"_Wait!" Eponine stopped him, grabbing him by the collar and crashing her lips onto his. She pulled away, her face beet-red. "I—"_

"_I know," he smiled, giving her another kiss, this time much more gentle. "And I love you, too."_

She never told him. Her words were put into actions. She never had to tell him. He understood.

* * *

Whether she wanted to or not, she decided that that day would be the day that she would put into words what she felt for him.

_He drove carefully, following all the rules and keeping the speed limit properly. The car was quiet yet comforting and she tried to form into words what she was about to say. She could feel it, yes, but not exactly say it._

_She looked out her window and saw the dark, star lit sky glowing gently. Opening her mouth, she let whatever first pop out flow out._

"_Enjolras," she called his name gently and he took a quick look at her before looking back at the road and nodding at her to continue. "You're—You're—Me, I'm like the sky. Free and full but—but that's only because so many things fill me up. The stars, my friends that help me seem brighter, the clouds, the ones that covered me in good and bad times, but you... You're like the sun. You're burning and consuming and—and you make me brighter. You're the one that really makes my day start and without you, I'm darkness. Nothing but a barely lit expanse. And I just... Thank you. For being there for me, for never leaving me, for guiding me and protecting me. You've done so much in my life that—"_

_She was interrupted by the loud, deafening sound of a truck horn. A truck horn that sounded like it was right in front of them._

_Enjolras, whose eyes had settled on her ever since she started speaking, turned back to the road and saw the oncoming truck. Moving into action, he swerved the car further right but the truck still crashed into Enjolras' side of the car. The car flipped over and the last thing Eponine could remember was Enjolras' tears before it was black, black, black._

She couldn't remember his funeral. She couldn't remember the words she had muttered up in front of the mourners when she spoke. She couldn't remember the bottle of liquor she had tried to consume. She couldn't remember glaring at the bottle, knowing how he had abhorred the stench of alcohol. She couldn't remember throwing the bottle at the wall instead of drinking it. She couldn't—She _wouldn't_ remember that day.

Instead of remembering, all she did for the next few months was imagine. Imagine a world where he lived, where they got married and had children, a world where he found justice, where she was happy—a world with him. But her imagination couldn't be created without having to remember the accident and the chance she was never able to have.

* * *

Even a year later, the pain was still a dull ache to her heart and she could do nothing but keep going. For her sake and for his.

She hated going to reunions and parties, seeing how she'd have to smile and tell everyone she was fine. She was not, she knew that. They knew that. But they still liked to believe that she was getting better. They still liked to believe that everything was fine.

The hardest part of the day for her were the mornings. Those mornings when she'd get up, look at the empty, unmade side of the bed and feel her throat tighten. Those mornings when she'd put on a shirt and her favorite shoes and remember his many different comments on how one blouse would make her eyes sparkle and how her shoes were so _her_. Those mornings when all she could think about when her eyes opened was that she never told him. Not once.

If she could have the chance to do it all again, she would have asked him to walk her home, even if it was a three hour walk. She would have told him everything she felt, everything he was to her, all the words that were meant for him and only him. The words she would never be able to say anymore.

* * *

_She had nightmares. They happened every other night. It took eight months for it to lessen—cut itself before the crash, but it never seemed to stop. It was the same dream over and over again._

_It was the crash, to a degree, but unlike in the accident, there was noise. Lots of it. Coming from everywhere and nowhere. The pounding music and shouts from the empty air scared her and whenever she opened her mouth to speak, the noise would get louder. It would fill her ears till she could hear nothing else and her mind would stray. But she was determined and would always try to tell Enjolras how she felt._

"_I love you!" she would shout._

"_What?!" he would reply, leaning closer with his brows furrowed._

"_I love you!" she would repeat but he couldn't hear her. He could never hear her. And that scared her._

She blinked, the beige colored wall coming back into focus. The constricting, squeezing in her heart returning like poison.

"I love you," she whispered into the air, only wishing that he could hear it from up above.

**([AN: So, this is my first time writing a Les Miserables fanfic and my first time writing a song fic. I hope you all liked it! Tell me what you think, point out some errors, criticize it (out of a writer's need to fix the story, not to bash it, please), or whatever but I'd love to know everyone's opinion! I hope I did an o-kay job at portraying Enjonine xS The song that inspired this is What Hurts The Most by Rascal Flatts, you should all go see the music video that inspired me! EDIT 09/22/13: Changed and added a little thi and that. Hope you all still enjoy!])**


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